


Love and Glory

by persephoneggsy



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Author has no idea what gloryholes are really like, Blow Jobs, Bottom Katsuki Yuuri, Come Swallowing, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Fingering, Glory Hole, Humiliation kink, M/M, Mutual Pining, Name-Calling, Power Bottom Katsuki Yuuri, Riding, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Size Kink, This is like canon but everyone's a little bit sluttier, This is the second blowjob fic I’ve written for these two losers lmao, Tipsy not Drunk, Top Victor Nikiforov, Unsafe Sex, Victor is Hung and none of you can take that from me, don't follow Yuuri and Victor's example everybody they're dumb and horny, smut written by an asexual virigin, so shameless, this is purely from my imagination lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-10-27 05:46:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10802973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephoneggsy/pseuds/persephoneggsy
Summary: After a competition, Phichit drags Yuuri out for a night of fun and debauchery at a gay nightclub. Rumor has it there’s an honest-to-god glory-hole there. Yuuri decides to check it out… and so does someone else.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had a dream about Yuuri sucking Victor off via glory-hole and now here we are

* * *

 

It’s not that Yuuri doesn’t love Phichit, because he does. He really does. But sometimes, on certain occasions, Yuuri has to take a step back and wonder why on earth he and Phichit are even friends.

Tonight is one of these occasions.

Phichit’s choice of venue for the night is obviously some kind of gay bar – well, it’s more like a nightclub, if Yuuri has to guess, judging from the neon lights and thumping party music that reverberates through the walls. It’s crowded, and tight, and humid, and Yuuri finds himself wondering how Phichit even knew about this place when it’s (to his knowledge) their first time in this city.

Phichit waves off his concerns and merely holds up his phone.

“Google Maps, Yuuri,” he chirps. “All you have to do is type in ‘gay hangout spots’ and _boom._ This place has four stars.”

Yuuri has a retort on the tip of his tongue – _why didn’t we go to a five-star place then, Mr. Know-It-All –_ but he bites it back. They’re already inside the damn place, and Phichit doesn’t seem intent on leaving until Yuuri cracks at least one genuine smile.

It’s stupid, really, because Yuuri wasn’t even the one competing this time. He’d merely accompanied Phichit and Celestino to the former’s competition to cheer him on. Phichit ended up placing fourth overall. He didn’t have any qualms about the results, so Yuuri supposes he shouldn’t, either. But it was admirable, really, especially since both Victor Nikiforov and Christophe Giacometti were also competitors.

Yuuri would’ve felt a little guilty at how loudly he cheered for Victor compared to his cheers for his roommate-slash-best-friend, but Phichit had been expecting it. He’d even brought along a sign decorated with cut-outs of Victor’s handsome face for Yuuri to wave around. He didn’t bring it, because it was embarrassing, but he’s definitely thinking of hanging it up in his room when they get back to Detroit.

Speaking of Victor, Phichit had tried to get Yuuri to talk to him during the competition, but Yuuri adamantly refused. And when Phichit volunteered to try and get Victor’s number, Yuuri held him by the face and threatened to burn his limited-edition Blu-ray set of _The King and The Skater_ films, so. Phichit didn’t do that.

Of course, Yuuri _wants_ to talk to Victor Nikiforov (and maybe touch him. And kiss him. A little bit. Shut up.), but he just isn’t ready yet. Someday, he promises himself, and repeats out loud to an unimpressed Phichit. Someday he will.

But, back to the situation at present. Phichit had decided that they both needed to let loose, and so he asked Celestino permission to go out. Their coach had granted his request easily, which worried Yuuri a bit, but he’d reasoned that both Phichit and Yuuri were of age, and could handle themselves.

But the look in Celestino’s eye suggested that Yuuri should probably watch out for the younger skater anyway.

That’s how they ended up where they are now: a gay nightclub in a foreign city, surrounded by strangers in skimpy outfits and overpriced alcohol. Though, as far as clothing goes, Yuuri and Phichit aren’t much better; Phichit had thrown together a couple outfits that he deemed suitable for such a locale, and despite Yuuri’s reservations, he convinced the Japanese skater to wear his.

For Phichit, it’s a loose-flowing top and a tiny pair of booty shorts that Yuuri thinks might’ve been proper pants at some point, until the Thai boy cut them up for his own purposes. He’s also got on a pair of wedges, because unlike Yuuri, Phichit can actually manage to walk in shoes taller than three inches without looking like newborn lamb.

For Yuuri, it’s a fitted crop-top (one which he _swore_ he threw away the day after Phichit gave it to him as a gag gift; it’s pale pink and bears the words ‘born sassy’ in a banner printed over his heart) and tight black skinny jeans. He’s wearing his regular red sneakers, but only because he refused to wear the hot pink ‘fuck me heels’ Phichit inexplicably brought with him.

So Yuuri does feel a little exposed, but seeing what some of the other club patrons were wearing, he supposes it could’ve been worse. He sees a sparkle in Phichit’s eye as a man in an outfit that could only be described as 80% mesh, 15% bare skin, and 5% actual cloth walks by, and resolves to never go to another place like this with Phichit again.

They push their way past the crowd until they make it to the bar, where they claim two seats for themselves. Phichit orders a few drinks to help Yuuri “loosen up”, and then minutes later, he’s off dancing with a guy wearing bright orange lipstick and a Madonna tee.

Yuuri stares down at his drink with distaste. It’s bright blue, which doesn’t look _great,_ and he knows he shouldn’t get drunk tonight. He might be their only hope of getting back to the hotel in one piece, but he can’t do that if he’s wasted. Plus, in a place like this, who knows what Drunk Yuuri might do.

(Sober Yuuri. Sober Yuuri knows what he’d do. And he does not approve.)

Still, the drink’s already paid for, and as long as it’s just the one…

Yuuri takes a tentative sip, and, after finding the taste fruity and not as unpleasant as he was expecting, takes another. Soon enough, the glass is almost empty, and Yuuri feels a pleasant buzz spreading throughout his body.

“Yuuri!” Phichit shouts over the crowd, waving his hands like a madman. “Come dance with me!”

 Yuuri looks over. Phichit’s still dancing next to Orange Lips, but he looks like he’s having fun. He kind of wants to join in. And, well, it isn’t like he’s drunk from just one glass. Just tipsy.

(Just for the record, Sober Yuuri doesn’t trust Tipsy Yuuri either.)

He shoots Phichit a grin and downs the rest of the glass before slamming it back on the bar top. Then, he gets out of his seat and makes his way over to Phichit, body already moving to the beat of the music.

Time passes on the dance floor. Yuuri hears cheering as he dances, and Phichit yells in his ear that they’re cheering for him, but Yuuri doesn’t believe him. At some point, Orange Lips (whose real name is Johann, or something) comes back with more drinks, but Yuuri, the responsible adult that he is, only has two more glasses of the blue stuff before calling it quits.

“Yuuri~” Phichit leans against him, grinning goofily. They’ve since moved away from the dance floor and are resting at one of the small booths nearby. “Do y’know what Johann told me?”

“Nope,” Yuuri replies, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis.

“He says there’s a _gloryhole_ here. Says anyone can just go in and suck a dick. Or get their dick sucked. He said either or. Oh my god, could you _imagine?”_

Yuuri hums. “That sounds awesome. I wanna suck a dick.”

“Pffft,” Phichit starts giggling. “You wanna suck _Victor’s_ dick.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Mm. I think Chris is prettier.”

“You wanna fight me, Chulanont?”

His giggling evolves into straight-up laughter, and Yuuri joins in, until Phichit suddenly stops, slapping his hand on Yuuri’s chest (ignoring his put-out ‘ow’), an enlightened expression on his face.

“ _Yuuri,”_ he says seriously. “Yuuri, you should do it.”

Yuuri frowns. “Do what?”

“Go to the gloryhole! _Suck a dick!”_

His eyes widen. “What?”

“C’mon!” Phichit is pulling Yuuri out of the booth, tugging him through the club once more. He finds Johann like he’s got a tracking device on him, and asks very loudly where the gloryhole is. Johann just giggles at them and points to a door in the back corner of the club, and Phichit shouts out a thank-you before pulling Yuuri in that direction. By that point, Yuuri just goes along with it, aided by the buzzing in his veins and his curiosity.

He’s never seen a real gloryhole before. Just the ones in dirty movies that he and Phichit sometimes watch. They usually always look gross and seedy, covered with graffiti and obscene pictures. Did they look like that in real life, though?

Phichit and Yuuri finally arrive at the door, which is marked with a drawing of an attractive man doing the “shhh” motion, winking at whoever is in front of him. Phichit goes “oooh,” and then pushes Yuuri towards the door.

“Wait,” Yuuri says, but he’s already past the threshold.

The door closes behind him, immediately muting the music to a dull murmur. Yuuri glances around, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

So far, it looks innocuous enough. It’s almost like a bathroom; eight stalls are lined up next to each other, and each stall looks like it’s divided in half. For each stall, one half is marked with a drawing of an open mouth, and the other is… well, it’s a penis.

Two of the stalls are fully occupied; Yuuri can hear moans coming from both pairs, and he quickly skitters away to the furthest stall out of embarrassment.

It feels like he’s been doused with cold water, sobering him up and making him wonder what the hell he’s doing here. He’s in a goddamn _public gloryhole room._ Him, Yuuri Katsuki, Japan’s top skater and loving son of two normal parents who would probably blush if they knew where he was right now.

He should leave. He should march right back out the door and drag Phichit back to the hotel, his friend’s good time be damned.

He glances at the empty stall in front of him. And yet…

A loud moan comes from the other side of the room, along with a husky chant of “yeah, fuck, swallow it all”, and Yuuri feels himself grow hot. He swallows nervously, licking his lips as his eyes go back to the unoccupied stall.

Well, no one but Phichit would know…

His fingers are already pulling open the mouth side of the stall before his brain finishes the thought. Yuuri hurries inside, like he might lose his nerve at any moment.

The inside of the stall is also surprisingly clean. There’s no graffiti on the walls, no crude tape covering the edge of the actual hole itself. It’s a perfect circle, big enough for Yuuri to comfortably fit his fist through. There’s a small shelf with bottles of lube and a box of condoms, as well as some tissue packets for clean-up and a trash can for disposal. There’s even a little padded cushion on the floor in front of the hole, so that his knees won’t ache.

Yuuri spares a grateful thought for whoever designed this place as he settles down on the cushion.

It’s quiet for a moment, save for the other stalls’ occupants, who carry on with their business, ignorant of Yuuri. He fidgets, staring through the hole. All he can do now is wait, he guesses.

Minutes pass, and as they do, Yuuri grows more and more restless. His thoughts begin to run away from him. What is he doing? What if no one comes? He looks like an idiot, waiting on his knees for someone who might not even show up. Or maybe he looks like a desperate slut, eager to suck some stranger’s cock, and for free, too.

That last thought makes Yuuri shiver, but not unpleasantly. Before he can think too much on that, though, he hears the latch unclick on the opposite stall, and someone enters. A groin enters Yuuri’s field of view, covered in expensive-looking black trousers. Two pale hands set to work unzipping those trousers, and Yuuri watches in awe as the stranger eases out his dick.

Said dick is then slowly fed through the hole – Yuuri leans back to stare at it, amazed. It’s _big._ Even flaccid, it’s girthy and long, almost six inches, and he can already feel his mouth watering.

“Wow,” he whispers, though he doesn’t realize it until he hears a deep chuckle from the other side of the wall.

“Thank you,” the Stranger says, his voice rough with a Russian accent. Yuuri shivers again. _Perfect._ Between his horniness and tipsiness, it’s scarily easy for his brain to make the Stranger sound just like Victor Nikiforov.

Yuuri reaches out and closes his hand around the base of the Stranger’s dick – or tries to, anyway. His fingers don’t meet; there’s just about three centimeters between his thumb and his index finger. He bites his lip in anticipation as the Stranger takes a sharp inhale of breath.

“I should, ah, warn you,” says the Stranger. “I’ve never done this before…”

“Neither have I,” Yuuri replies softly. He begins moving his hand experimentally, trying to coax the organ to hardness. It’s a little dry, but luckily, Yuuri spots the small shelf containing the bottles of lube. He grabs one with his free hand, popping open the cap with his teeth, and squirting a healthy amount on the Stranger’s cock. He hears the Stranger gasp.

“C-Cold,” he murmurs.

“Sorry,” Yuuri says back, not sorry at all. His hand is moving much more smoothly now, aided by the slickness of the lube. He watches with a grin as the cock grows and hardens, growing to at least eight inches. The head, revealed by the pulled-back foreskin, bobs invitingly just in front of Yuuri’s face. A bead of precum glistens at the slit, begging to be licked up by Yuuri’s tongue.

Yuuri tosses aside the bottle and closes his other hand around the Stranger’s dick, stroking it with two tightly-furled fists. The Stranger moans breathily.

“Yes,” he whispers, “yes, that’s it baby… Stroke my cock. You’re so good…”

Yuuri flushes at the praise. In his mind, he imagines Victor Nikiforov standing above him, saying those very words. He’s smiling down at Yuuri, but the gentle curve of his mouth is completely at odds with the hungry look in his eye.

He wants more. And Yuuri’s going to give it to him.

As if reading his mind, the Stranger bucks his hips, briefly fucking into the tunnel Yuuri’s hands make.

“Ah… I want to feel your mouth, baby…”

Feeling bold, Yuuri removes his hands and breathes hotly on the cock’s head. It twitches cutely in response. Yuuri bites back a smile.

“Ask nicely,” he demands huskily.

“ _Fuck,”_ the Stranger groans. “Suck my cock, baby. Please suck my cock…”

Yuuri shudders, unable to hold himself back. Pressing one hand against the wall, and the other to cup the bulge in his jeans, he leans forward and takes the head of the Stranger’s cock into his mouth.

Salt bursts on his tongue as he laps up the precum, causing him to moan around the hot length. The Stranger gasps, pressing his body further against the dividing wall, as if to push more of himself inside the cavern of Yuuri’s mouth.

Yuuri gives an experimental suck, bobbing his head against the tip of the Stranger’s dick. Just this small section was so hot and thick, his lips stretched decently wide to accommodate it. He runs his tongue along the bottom veins, tasting salt and skin and, oddly enough, strawberry. Must be the lube.

“A-Ah… ‘Never done this before’ my _ass_ …” The Stranger laughs, his voice strained.

Yuuri doesn’t bother to reply, just hollows his cheeks and takes more of the Stranger into his mouth. He could tell him that he’s never been in a gloryhole, but he’s certainly sucked a cock before. Nothing too special, just men he’s met at college parties, and the much bigger dildos he orders online to practice on. But this dick? This dick tops them _all._

Yuuri presses his hand harder against the bulge in his pants, canting his hips forward to rub his palm. His other hand, braced against the wall, slowly moves back towards the Stranger’s dick, stroking what Yuuri hasn’t gotten in his mouth yet. All the while, he’s been moaning like a two-bit whore, sloppily sucking at the bulbous head like it’s some kind of lewd lollipop. Ordinarily, he’d be at least a little ashamed.

But the Stranger _loves_ it.

“Oh, fuck, that’s right… Suck it harder, baby… Nngh…” falls from his lips like a prayer, followed by a smattering of Russian that Yuuri can’t possibly hope to translate. But it doesn’t matter, because the reminder that the Stranger is Russian just fuels his fantasy, and Yuuri finally unbuttons his jeans to free his own erection.

He practically cries out once his hand touches the bare flesh, and the Stranger feels it. He bucks dangerously against the wall, jostling it, whining when his cock isn’t enveloped in more of Yuuri’s velvety mouth. Yuuri takes pity on him. He removes his hand from the Stranger’s cock and pitches his head forwards, sliding his lips along the thick length until his nose is touching the wall.

The feeling of having his throat stuffed with cock is amazing enough, but the Stranger’s response is _fantastic._

“ _F-Fuck!”_ he yells, and Yuuri feels his dick twitching inside his throat. “Oh my god, you absolute little _slut…”_

Yuuri moans at that, picturing Victor once more. The Russian is glaring down at him now, but his hands are tangled in Yuuri’s hair, gripping the black locks tightly.

 _“You dirty little slut,”_ Victor would say, _“You were made for this, weren’t you? You were born to have my cock stuffing your worthless, whore throat.”_

He strokes his own cock a little faster, hips fucking into the tight circle of his fist. He pulls back his head head until just the tip of the Stranger’s cock is still in, and then he pushes back, swallowing him down like his cock is the best thing he’s ever tasted in his entire life.

(It might as well be; Yuuri, dazedly, thinks he might’ve found the katsudon of cocks.)

He swallows, his throat closing tightly around the Stranger’s dick, and he hears a throaty moan in response.

Suddenly, the Stranger is pulling back, removing his cock from Yuuri’s throat and mouth, leaving him a gasping, slobbery mess.

“Wha – ?” he coughs, but the Stranger interrupts him.

“I want to fuck your throat,” he says fervently, sounding like a man possessed. “Please, baby, let me?”

Yuuri blinks. His hand is still closed around his leaking erection, and when he peers out of the hole, he sees the Stranger’s hand closed around the base of his cock, as if to stave off orgasm. It makes him grin like a fool.

Instead of answering, Yuuri presses his mouth against the hole and opens wide, sticking out his tongue in invitation. Saliva drips off his tongue and onto the floor, showing off just how wet the inside of his mouth has become.

“Holy shit,” the Stranger breathes., like he hadn’t expected _that._

When he doesn’t immediately push his cock back inside, Yuuri whimpers. He’s far past shame at this point, words tumbling from his lips like a waterfall.

“Please,” he begs. “ _Please_ , Sir, fuck my mouth… Use my throat like a toy and spill your come inside me!”

As soon as he finishes, the Stranger thrusts his hips forward, shoving his cock past Yuuri’s lips and all the way back into his throat like it belongs there.

“Amazing,” he hears the Stranger whisper. “Baby, you’re so fucking hot…”

Almost immediately, the Stranger begins to piston his hips, fucking in and out of Yuuri’s mouth. He moves quickly, punishing Yuuri with long, hard thrusts, reveling in the gagging and spluttered coughs that try to escape his lips, only to be smothered by the Stranger’s cock.

Just stroking his own dick isn’t enough anymore. Yuuri carefully wiggles his jeans down over the curve of his ass, careful to keep his head in place to please the Stranger, and when that’s done, he brings a hand down to rub as his puckered entrance. His other is still on his dick, and oh, what a sight he must make. Yuuri Katsuki, Japan’s top skater, fucking himself on his hands at both ends while he’s got a stranger’s cock slamming into the back of his throat, face covered with spit and precum, and eyes rolled back like it’s the best feeling in the world.

(It kind of is. It’s up there with winning the Grand Prix Final and earning the praise of Victor Nikiforov. Yuuri wouldn’t know, as he hasn’t done either of those things, but he imagines they’re fairly close in terms of satisfaction.)

The Stranger is speaking almost entirely in Russian now, as if he’s lost the ability to bother translating himself into English. Yuuri doesn’t care, it’s hot as fuck. He pumps his finger in and out of his hole, dry, but the burn doesn’t bother him, either. He just listens to the Stranger babble – though he’s sure that even if he did speak Russian, he wouldn’t be able to make sense of him anyway.

For a second, he thinks he hears his name – _Yuuri –_ but he immediately dismisses the thought.

The Stranger’s pace becomes erratic, his movements shaking the wall almost violently as he fucks Yuuri’s mouth, like he’ll die if he slows down now.

“Baby, baby,” the Stranger sobs, “I’m coming, I’m – _fuck!”_

He slams all the way inside, and Yuuri presses up against him, getting his cock as far in as they can manage. He feels something warm and thick shooting down his throat; the Stranger’s come. He swallows it greedily, feeling dirty and used and _wonderful_ when his own orgasm cuts through him, hole twitching wildly around his finger as his cock paints the wall white with his sperm.

They stay nearly frozen like that for a good, long while. Yuuri can feel the Stranger’s cock softening in his throat as the man pants, fighting to regain his breath. Finally, the Stranger pulls back, and Yuuri sags against the wall, closing his eyes but not his mouth. He feels like his mouth might be permanently stuck open now. That’ll make things awkward in the future, he’s sure.

“That was incredible,” the Stranger manages to get out. Yuuri is envious; all he can do is mewl contentedly with his cheek mushed up against the wall.

He hears a chuckle. “It was good for you, too?”

Yuuri nods, before he realizes that the Stranger still can’t see him. He strains his voice to reply, “Wonderful…”

“I’m glad…” The Stranger’s voice is oddly… What is that? Fond? “That was a marvelous first experience. I don’t think anyone else could compare.”

“Flatterer,” Yuuri mutters tiredly. He’s starting to feel the ache in his jaw from being forced and kept open. Still, he bucks his hips lazily and sighs. “I wish you would fuck my ass like that…”

The Stranger makes a choking noise. “You – what?”

Boldly, Yuuri presses on, though by this point he’s tired and starting to sound a bit delirious. “You should. We should go somewhere… I have a hotel room… You could fuck me all night if you wanted to…”

“ _Jesus Christ.”_ The Stranger takes a deep breath. “D-Do you really want that? Because I wouldn’t say no…”

Though he’s tired, the idea of that cock splitting him open again, in his ass, all night, makes Yuuri’s dick twitch in interest.

“I want that,” he replies earnestly. “I seriously fucking do.”

The Stranger clears his throat. “A-Alright then. I’ll… I’ll wait for you outside? Of the stall, I mean. I want to see you…”

Yuuri hums. “Let me clean up first?”

“Of course.”

Yuuri shuffles around, pulling his pants back up and tucking himself back inside them. Outside the stall, he hears the Stranger exit his side, walking over to the wall and then stopping, clearly waiting for Yuuri.

He takes a few tissues, wipes his come off the wall and the spit from his chin, and throws them away in the trash can. Then he runs a hand through his hair and grimaces at the sweat beading on his forehead. He must be a flushed _mess_. His lips feel swollen and red, too. But hey, maybe the Stranger will be into that.

It occurs to him that the Stranger might be ugly. He might look absolutely nothing like Victor Nikiforov. Yuuri finds that he doesn’t care right now. He wants that cock again. Really, his main worry is that the Stranger will be disappointed with _him._

Steeling himself for the worst, Yuuri unlatches the lock and opens the door. Stepping outside, it takes only seconds for him to find the Stranger, and when he does…

He _yelps._

Yuuri’s hands fly to his mouth in shock as he sees the man who’s dick he just had crammed in his mouth for the first time.

It’s _Victor Nikiforov._

Victor jumps at his sudden noise, but then he looks at Yuuri, _really_ looks at him, and his jaw drops. A pink blush spreads over the Russian’s cheeks as his eyes grow to the size of dinner plates.

“Y-Yuuri Katsuki?” he gasps.

Distantly, almost like his mind has separated from his body, Yuuri realizes that his idol actually _knows his name._ He’d be delighted, if he weren’t currently trying to wrap his head around the fact that he just _swallowed Victor Nikiforov’s come oh my god –_

He’s still staring, wide-eyed with his hands clamped over his mouth, at Victor, who stares back, just as shocked. But Victor recovers first, smiling sheepishly, averting his eyes from Yuuri.

“W-Well… This isn’t exactly how I imagined our first meeting would go… But, ah, beggars can’t be choosers?”

Yuuri doesn’t say anything. He’s pretty sure he can’t talk anymore.

“Um…” Victor shuffles his feet nervously ( _what the fuck is he so nervous about)_ and rubs the back of his neck. “Wow. This is… This is one hell of a coincidence, isn’t it?”

Yuuri blinks.

“I-I almost didn’t want to come here, you know,” Victor babbles, “I was trying to find _you,_ because I’d heard you were at the competition for a friend, but then you left so suddenly and…”

Yuuri blinks again.

“Chris said we should go out so I could drown my sorrows in alcohol, but then I overheard someone talking about this gloryhole thing and I… I thought, ‘why not, I could pretend it’s Katsuki’, and then you… Yuuri?”

Yuuri jolts, finally removing his hands from his mouth, though they hover in front of his chest. “Y-You… You’re Victor Nikiforov.”

Victor smiles weakly. “I am.”

“I just… With you…” Yuuri takes a step back, feeling lightheaded. He barely notices Victor take a step forward, his expression now one of concern.

“Yuuri?”

“Oh my god!” Yuuri wails, burying his face in his hands. “I can’t believe I – the things I _said –_ what the fuck?!”

He doesn’t see the way Victor visibly deflates his blue eyes suddenly overcast with disappointment.

“Is – Is that such a bad thing?” Victor murmurs.

Yuuri snaps his head up to glare at him, forgetting for a split second who he _is._ “I just humiliated myself in front of my idol!”

Victor furrows his brow. “Humilia – wait, _idol?”_ He suddenly grins, that famous heart-shaped smile taking over his lips. “I’m your idol?”

Yuuri squeaks. He tries to bury his face in his hands again, but Victor steps forward and grabs his wrist, holding them down. Yuuri flushes as he stares up into Victor’s impossibly handsome face. Victor is smiling down at him, clearly expecting something.

Yuuri lowers his gaze. “Of course you are, you’re… You’re _Victor Nikiforov…”_

“And you’re Yuuri Katsuki,” Victor returns, sounding for all the world like he’s just seen the face of God. “I’m a big fan of yours, you know?”

“ _What –?”_

Yuuri’s incredulous shout is cut off as a man stumbles into the room, disheveled and drunk. Victor and Yuuri both turn their heads to look at him. He catches their gazes – more specifically, Yuuri’s – and leers.

“Hey – _hic –_ cutie! You going in?” He gestures to the ‘receive’ stall with a stupid grin, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Yuuri tries to curl in on himself, but Victor wraps an arm around his waist and tugs him in close.

“No, he just finished,” Victor says curtly, giving the man a too-bright smile. “Excuse us.”

He quickly leads Yuuri out of the gloryhole room, and soon, they’re back in the club, music echoing around them and bright lights hurting their eyes.

Yuuri fidgets, unused to the warm weight of _Victor Nikiforov’s_ hand on his waist. He glances at the world champion skater, unsure.

“Um… Vict –!”

“Yuuri,” Victor smiles down at him again. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“I…” Yuuri opens his mouth. Then closes it again.

(What even is his life anymore?)

(Fuck it.)

“O-Okay,” Yuuri replies, earlier embarrassment be damned.

It’s worth it for the beautiful beaming smile on Victor’s face. He leads them over to the bar, where Yuuri can see Phichit conversing with another familiar figure – Christophe Giacometti. Chris spots Victor in the crowd and starts to wave him over, only to catch sight of Yuuri and have his jaw drop.

Victor waves back, laughing, which somehow gets Phichit’s attention. The Thai skater sees his best friend, with none other than Victor Nikiforov holding him possessively by the waist, and his face lights up with the biggest, happiest grin Yuuri’s ever seen.

Yuuri shoots him a glare; Phichit shoots him a thumbs-up. Then he turns back to Chris, jumping up and down like an excited puppy.

Yuuri sighs, but then Victor leans in close, whispering softly.

“So earlier, in the stall…” He can feel Victor’s smile against the shell of his ear, and he shivers. “You said I could fuck you all night, if I wanted. Is that offer still up for grabs?”

Yuuri swallows the lump in his throat and forces himself to look directly at Victor. He licks his lips, noting the way Victor’s eyes are drawn to his tongue. For a moment, he feels powerful. He feels himself smirk.

“Only if you think you can handle it.”

Victor stares, then lets out a shuddering breath. “God, you’re _perfect.”_

Yuuri’s smirk widens. “And thirsty. Buy me my drink and we can sort out the details?”

Victor grins. “As you wish, _baby.”_

Yuuri watches as Victor turns away to flag down the bartender, admiring the profile of his face. He’s even better-looking up close, he notes happily.

Victor’s thumb is rubbing circles into the bare skin just above Yuuri’s jeans, and the warmth of his body is pressed against Yuuri’s, foreign but not unwelcome. Victor starts to ramble on about Yuuri’s short program last year, and how much he was enthralled by it, and Yuuri feels an overwhelming sense of gratefulness fill every fiber of his being.

He’s really going to have to thank Phichit for bringing him out tonight.

 

* * *

 


	2. Bonus: Hotel Room Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By popular demand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're all filthy enablers and I love each and every one of you.

 

* * *

 

 

Victor Nikiforov is _living._

It’s hard for him to contain his giddy grin as he and Yuuri make their way through the halls of the hotel, even as a very drunk Chris and Phichit stumble in front of them. They’re being loud and embarrassing, earning the stare of every passerby they’ve encountered so far (which was a lot, considering the time of night), but Victor does not care. He knows what’s coming as soon as they drop the two drunks off in their respective rooms.

And judging from the ever-present blush on Yuuri’s face, he does, too.

Victor still can’t believe it; _the_ Yuuri Katsuki, of all people, walks into the same nightclub that Chris drags him off to, wanders into the _same_ stall as Victor, and on top of all of that, says that Victor is _his idol?_

(Victor thinks he might’ve died. This _has_ to be heaven.)

Honestly, he was too excited about the ‘idol’ thing at first; it took almost half an hour before it really caught up with him that Yuuri Katsuki, his longtime crush and Most Gorgeous Man on Earth, _sucked_ his _dick._ Sucked it like he’d die without it. And the things he _said_ while doing it…

Victor, like any man with a libido, has had fantasies about the object of his affections; he just never thought they’d end up coming true, and be better than he ever imagined.

They bring Chris to his room first, the Swiss skater shooting them both a knowing look before dashing inside. They can all hear an ‘oof!’ as Chris dives onto the same bed his boyfriend-slash-choreographer is sleeping in; he’d declined accompanying Chris and Victor to the club just hours before, and Victor’s just happy he didn’t decide the same.

When they bring Phichit to his and Yuuri’s shared room, Victor watches amusedly as the younger boy boops Yuuri on the nose, then holds both sides of his face with a serious expression.

“Make sure he’s good, okay?” he says sternly, like Yuuri is his child, off to his first sleepover. “I don’t care if he’s your favorite, he’s gotta treat you good. Okay?”

Yuuri’s entire face is red ( _adorable)._ “Phichit, please go to bed.”

“And you!” Phichit wags a finger in Victor’s direction, completely ignoring his friend. “You better dick him so good he can’t even look at his posters of you in the eye anymore. Got it?”

Victor almost giggles hysterically – _Yuuri has posters of him oh my god –_ but manages to keep a straight face as he nods. Yuuri is leaning against the wall next to the door, making dying whale noises.

“Okay then.” Phichit gives a sloppy salute. “Godspeed, the both of you.”

Then he waltzes into his room, shutting the door with a definitive _click._ Victor glances down and sees Yuuri glaring at the room number.

“You’re going to have the worst hangover of your life,” he mutters to himself. “See if I help you then, you jerk.”

Victor smiles, looping his arm around Yuuri’s waist for the second time that night. Immediately, the glare on Yuuri’s face is replaced with a look of shock, like he’d forgotten Victor was there at all.

“Shall we?” he asks, dropping his voice to a low murmur.

Yuuri gulps, quite audibly too, but Victor’s heart soars when he shyly nods his head.

He leads the way back to his own room, which is just one floor up, and Victor marvels at yet another coincidence. Yuuri’s been sleeping underneath him for the past few days all along… And now he’s going to be underneath him in a different sense entirely.

(Or on top of him. Or to the side. Victor has no real preference as to what position they’re in, so long as they’re doing _something.)_

Yuuri’s body is warm, pressed against Victor’s. He still smells like the club – that is to say, like fruity drinks and sex – and the blush on his face has yet to fade. As they step into the elevator, Victor admires his profile. The pointed tip of his delicate nose, the roundness of his cheeks, the way his hair falls over his forehead and ears… Victor’s never felt so enthralled.

It was hard to believe that just a year ago, the name Yuuri Katsuki was virtually unknown to him. But then he watched a competition on TV, mostly at Yakov’s insistence – he needed to ‘watch his competition’ or something like that. Victor had thought it unnecessary, bordering on trite, but now, he could never be more grateful to his coach.

Because the announcer called Yuuri Katsuki’s name, and the most beautiful man Victor had ever beheld glided out onto the ice.

Yuuri Katsuki skated like no one Victor had ever seen before; like an instrument played by a master musician, Yuuri’s body seemed to create the music, melody flowing from his every movement. Every little thing, from the way he tilted his head to the position he held his hands, was perfect. His jumps might’ve not been the best, but still Victor could not look away.

He’d thought it a travesty that Yuuri Katsuki only won bronze at the event, and he made his opinion known very loudly. Yuri Plisetsky told him to shut the fuck up.

From then on, Victor had developed… something of an obsession.

He watched all of Yuuri’s past performances, his interviews, even his sponsorship advertisements – Japan makes some really weird commercials, but damn if Yuuri doesn’t manage to be adorable in every single one of them. He just couldn’t get enough of the way Yuuri moved, or how he talked, or smiled…

He’d even bought posters. It got to the point that his _rink mates_ bought him posters. He has a lovely 24 x 36’’ limited edition print of Yuuri’s senior debut free skate costume hanging in his living room, courtesy of Mila and Georgi as a birthday present.

And Chris was gracious enough to link him to a Tumblr that archived pictures and gifs of Yuuri’s frankly glorious butt.

(Chris proved why he was Victor’s best friend that day.)

Victor’s drawn out of his thoughts as the elevator _dings_ at his floor. Practically vibrating with anticipation, he quickly brings himself and Yuuri out into the hallway and down to his room, the smaller man coming along easily. Victor has to let him go to open the door; his hand is shaking as he digs his room key out of his pocket, and he knows Yuuri is staring at him, but he manages to get the door unlocked anyway. He pulls Yuuri inside and then shuts said door securely behind him.

And now they’re alone.

Well, they were alone _before,_ but now they’re in Victor’s space, his room; they’re separated from the rest of the world in a way that they weren’t back in those blessed stalls.

Yuuri stands before him, shyly staring up at Victor through those long, long eyelashes of his. Victor stares back. His eyes drift from Yuuri’s lashes to his lips, like they’re being drawn towards them. They’re soft and pink and parted in an inviting manner. They look so innocent, Victor almost forgets that those same lips were wrapped around his dick not too long ago.

Almost.

Yuuri licks his lips, and it’s like a dam breaks.

Victor shoots forward, hands grasping either side of Yuuri’s face, and the Japanese skater barely has time to yelp before their lips meet in a harsh kiss. The momentum of Victor’s movement has Yuuri tumbling backwards, but luckily the walls catches him. Victor crowds his body against Yuuri’s, trapping him against the wall as he licks his way into Yuuri’s mouth. Despite his shy demeanor, Yuuri lets him in readily, moaning softly as Victor’s tongue swipes across his teeth.

Yuuri’s hands have wrapped themselves under Victor’s arms, grasping the back of his shirt like a lifeline. His legs are spread slightly open by the thigh Victor’s managed to slip between them, and it brushes against a distinct bulge in the smaller man’s jeans. Victor barely holds back a noise of surprise - Yuuri’s getting hard already?

The thought makes him smile against Yuuri’s mouth. He pulls back, breaking the kiss, only to duck his head down and begin suckling the skin along Yuuri’s jawline. Yuuri mewls sweetly, fingers tightening in their hold on Victor’s shirt, and his body goes tense, like he’s trying his hardest not to move.

 _That won’t do_ , thinks Victor.

He licks a hot stripe on the underside of Yuuri’s jaw and murmurs against the skin, “Yuuri…” Glancing up, he sees Yuuri biting his lip. His hands wander down to Yuuri’s waist. “What do you want me to do, _zolotse?”_

Yuuri flushes at the endearment, though Victor doesn’t know if he actually knows what it means or not. He shakes his head, and Victor feels his fingers flex uncertainly at his back.

“D-Do what you want, Victor,” he says, not meeting Victor’s eyes. “I can take it.”

Normally, Victor would’ve been aroused by those words, and in some small measure, he is. But something feels off. Yuuri had been so forward in the stall, where anonymity helped protect his dignity. Now that it’s gone, he’s become shy.

“I want to do whatever _you_ want me to do,” he quips back, smiling when Yuuri actually gives him a flat, unimpressed look. Victor laughs and kisses him again.

When they part, Yuuri finally meets his eyes. He purses his lips, considering, and then speaks.

“I’ve never… Um… ‘gone all the way’ before.”

Victor blinks. He can’t help his incredulous tone when he blurts out in response, “Really?”

Unfortunately, that just makes Yuuri duck his head in embarrassment. “I-I mean, I’ve fooled around before, yeah, and I have… t-toys, but I’ve never… And I never thought my first time would _actually_ be with Victor Nikiforov…”

Still stunned, Victor’s mind latches onto the word ‘actually’. As he processes this, a slow smirk crawls over his face.

“But you’ve fantasized about it, yes?”

Yuuri’s blush darkens as his eyes widen with horror at what he’s just admitted. “Oh God.”

Victor leans in until their noses are barely touching, grinning at Yuuri. “Tell me, Yuuri; what happens in these ‘fantasies’ of yours?”

Yuuri pushes at his shoulders, shaking his head furiously, but Victor manages to keep himself in place. His hands, however, are a different story; they slide across the skin of Yuuri’s bare stomach for a moment, earning a gasp from the Japanese skater, before slipping under the fabric of Yuuri’s pink crop top.

Each hand quickly finds a nipple, and Victor licks his lips, anticipatory, as Yuuri seems to realize this fact. Before he can move, Victor’s fingers pinch each nipple with a fair amount of strength, causing Yuuri to yelp loudly. He claps a hand over his mouth, mortified.

Victor doesn’t stop; he pushes the material of the top up so that Yuuri’s chest is exposed to the air, leaning down to take one pert bud into his mouth, laving his tongue against it. Yuuri reacts _wonderfully,_ arching against Victor, letting one long, shameless moan leave his lips; it goes straight to Victor’s cock. Victor grunts, grinding his clothed erection against Yuuri’s thigh, as he releases Yuuri’s nipple and glances up at the younger man through hooded eyes.

“Is it like this, Yuuri?” he whispers.

Yuuri, face bright red and eyes unfocused, looks back down at him, confused. “Wha…?”

“In your fantasies,” Victor clarifies. His hands drift down from Yuuri’s torso to his hips, and then a bit further until each palm is pressed over a globe of Yuuri’s ass. Yuuri gasps. “Do I touch you like this?”

He squeezes, earning a truly arousing whimper. Yuuri licks his lips and shyly meets his eyes.

“N-No,” he shakes his head. “You’re…”

Victor smiles encouragingly. “Yes?”

“Y-You’re usually… rougher. With me. Physically and, um, v-verbally...”

“Ah,” Victor’s smile morphs into a smirk. He lifts his head to press his lips against Yuuri’s ear, a feather-light touch that makes the younger man shiver. “Of course. Judging by how you behaved earlier, I should’ve known. You’re a very dirty boy, aren’t you, Yuuri?”

To punctuate his statement, Victor bites the skin of Yuuri’s earlobe. He hears the sharp intake of breath, but otherwise, Yuuri doesn’t respond. Then, quietly, Victor’s hears a soft, “ _Yes, Sir.”_

His entire body reacts like it’s been set on fire.

“Rough it is, then,” he hears himself growl, and suddenly he’s hauling Yuuri up into his arms, ignoring his startled yelp, turning around to _throw_ Yuuri onto the bed, rumpling the previously pristine sheets.

Yuuri barely has time to recover before Victor is draping himself over him, swallowing up whatever he has to say in another searing kiss. But he recovers quickly - he cants his hips up, his clothed erection rutting against Victor’s leg, mewling into his mouth, desperate.

When Victor finally pulls back, it’s to stare down at the trembling form beneath him. Yuuri’s face is flushed, eyes shut tightly in ecstasy. His top is rumpled from Victor’s earlier actions, and one pert nipple peeks shyly out from the lifted hem. In his trousers, there’s a slight bulge indicating just how much he’s enjoying this, and Victor licks his lips in anticipation.

With a sudden surge of impatience, Victor’s hands dart to once again grab Yuuri’s top - only this time, he’s tugging it over the Japanese skater’s head. Yuuri cooperates as best he can in his flustered state, which is to say, with a fair bit of difficulty. When they finally manage to take the pink top off, Victor tosses it carelessly behind him, where it falls to the floor. It’s soon joined by Yuuri’s pants, socks, underwear - Victor practically tears it all off. Every new inch of skin exposed to him only makes him hungrier, more eager to get the main event. Soon, Yuuri is completely bare under him, and _oh._

He’s so fucking beautiful.

Victor runs reverent fingers up and down Yuuri’s flank, mouth nearly salivating at his smooth, pale skin. His chest is like his face, flushed red, his thighs are to _die_ for, and his cute little cock twitches and bobs with the barest caress of Victor’s. Yuuri squirms, pouting, then moves his hands up to tug at Victor’s v-neck.

“Not fair,” he murmurs. “Your turn.”

Victor holds back a delirious chuckle and quickly does as Yuuri’s requested. His clothes join Yuuri’s in a haphazard pile on the floor, and soon, he’s just as naked as his lover.

Now, Victor is a vain man. He’d be the first to admit that. He looks good and he _knows_ it. He’s muscular, has a handsome face, a fantastic ass, and an impressive cock. He’s never felt self-conscious in bed.

But the way Yuuri looks at him as soon as his last scrap of fabric leaves his body… _That’s_ when Victor feels more attractive than he’s ever felt before.

Suddenly, Yuuri surges forward, and Victor finds himself staring up at the ceiling, the breath knocked out of him, with Yuuri now straddling his legs with a lustful gaze. Victor stares, wide-eyed, as Yuuri wraps a hand around his thick cock to stroke it. He meets Victor’s eye as he slowly pumps the Russian’s length, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

(Oh God.)

“You have such a pretty cock, Victor,” Yuuri purrs, backing up just enough to lower his face to Victor’s dick and rub his cheek against it. Victor nearly comes on his face; no amount of wet dreams in the universe could have prepared him for the real deal.

As Yuuri sticks out his tongue and laves it across the engorged head, Victor has to resist the urge to toss his head back - instead, he forces himself to keep watching. The sight is the most erotic thing he’s ever seen. Sure, Yuuri sucked his dick before, but actually _seeing_ it… Victor might actually die tonight, and honestly, he wouldn’t want to go out any other way.

Victor moves to sit up - Yuuri has begun suckling at the head, making soft noises that vibrate from his mouth to Victor’s dick. The older man runs a hand through Yuuri’s thick black hair and gets a firm grip on it.

Yuuri looks up at him and moans around his cock. He lets out a muffled “Victor,” and experimentally, Victor tightens his grip. As he suspected, Yuuri moans again, louder now, and more drool pools out of his mouth and down Victor’s dick. Then he remembers: Yuuri likes it rough.

“ _Shit,_ ” he groans and pulls Yuuri’s head back, unfortunately separating him from his cock. Yuuri pants with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, gazing up at Victor with confused eyes. Wordlessly, Victor pulls him up, by his hair, into a bruising kiss.

Turnabout being fair play and all, Victor uses Yuuri’s temporarily distracted state to flip them back over to their original positions. Only, he also flips Yuuri onto his stomach, making him lift his hips up. Victor admires the arch of his back for just a second before he finds something even more praiseworthy: Yuuri’s _ass._

That Tumblr blog did not do this ass justice. It’s nice and firm, Victor notes with glee, as he smooths his palms down over either cheek. Yuuri, meanwhile, is breathing heavily into the mattress. Victor parts the cheeks, exposing Yuuri’s pink hole to the air. It twitches a bit, as if aware of Victor’s burning gaze. He brushes his thumb across it, and watches with fascination as it winks in time with Yuuri’s ragged pants.

“Victor,” Yuuri whines, wiggling his hips to arch further into his touch. “Victor, _please…”_

Victor doesn’t tear his eyes from Yuuri’s entrance. “Yes, _zolotse?_ What do you want me to do?”

He pushes his thumb down this time, applying just the slightest amount of pressure, and Yuuri sobs.

“ _Anything!”_

Victor licks his lips and smirks. “If you say so.”

He lowers his face to settle between the globes of Yuuri’s butt until his mouth is hovering over Yuuri’s hole. Hot breath ghosts over it, and Yuuri seems to realize what Victor’s about to do, if his sharp gasp is any indication. With no further preamble, Victor licks across the furled muscle, and Yuuri jerks, pushing his hips back against Victor’s mouth. Victor lets out a muffled groan and opens his mouth wider, sealing his lips around the hole and giving it a harsh suck.

(Yuuri, blessedly, washes very thoroughly in this area. Though, Victor is  almost certain that by this point, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. He is too far gone over this man.)

For a while, the only sounds in the room are Yuuri’s breathy groans and Victor’s corresponding slurps as he continues eating the younger man out. At some point, his hand sneaks between Yuuri’s legs and starts to stroke his cock, and by then, Yuuri was thrusting his hips back and forth, eager for more friction anywhere he could get it. Victor ends up adoring the feeling of Yuuri’s ass pressed against his face, and fleetingly thinks of asking Yuuri to sit on it.

But not now. Another time, because Victor will be damned if he and Yuuri don’t do this again.

Victor pulls back and forces himself away from Yuuri’s body, swallowing thickly at the loud whine of protest that Yuuri emits.

“Vic _tor,_ come back…”

“J-Just a minute, Yuuri,” he says back. He strides over to his open suitcase and rummages through it, until he finally finds his prize: a small bottle of lube. He hasn’t used it recently, and honestly he wasn’t even going to bring it on this trip, but he thanks every god he can think of (and Chris) that he did.

He hurries back to Yuuri, who’s turned over on his side to watch him. His eyes are half-lidded and clouded over with arousal, but he clearly tracks Victor’s movement with the intensity of a predator. It makes Victor’s skin tingle with excitement as he clambers back into the bed. Yuuri turns to lie on his back, and without prompting, hoists his own legs up to show off his damp entrance, still glistening and wet with Victor’s saliva.

(Oh _God._ )

“Yuuri,” Victor swallows thickly, “do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

“No,” Yuuri demurs. He spreads his legs even wider. “Why don’t you show me?”

Hands trembling, Victor uncaps the bottle and pours a decent amount onto his fingers. He tosses the bottle somewhere on the bed - he does not give a shit where it lands - and scoots closer to Yuuri. He circles the twitching muscle with his lubed-up fingers, teasing the rim. Yuuri gasps and writhes under his ministrations.

“No more teasing, Victor…” he says breathily. “C’mon, get me wet and open for your cock.”

Victor shudders. “ _Christ.”_

He slides his index finger in first, pushing with some difficulty past the tight ring. But once he’s in, he shudders. His finger is enveloped in heat, Yuuri’s insides squeezing around him, and his cock twitches enviously as he begins to piston the digit in and out, working Yuuri loose enough to take another.

All the while, Yuuri whines - a high, needy sound that shakes Victor right to his core.

“God, look at you,” he murmurs, gazing adoringly at the younger man. He adds another finger as he speaks, so whether Yuuri hears him, or is completely focused on Victor’s actions, he doesn’t know. But he doesn’t stop. “I didn’t think you’d be such a slut, Yuuri, but I _love_ it.”

“More, please, Victor,” Yuuri begs. His eyes are wild and Victor’s not sure if he means more fingers or more dirty talk. So, naturally, he adds both.

As his third finger breaches Yuuri’s hole, Victor leans down to kiss the Japanese skater once more. It’s brief, just the barest touch of lips, but when they part, Yuuri mewls pitifully, as if demanding more. Victor only smiles.

“I wish I’d known it was you right away,” he says, fingering Yuuri almost absent-mindedly. “Back at the gloryhole. I would’ve fucked that pretty little mouth of yours so much harder…”

Yuuri gasps, back arching off the bed; Victor guesses that he’s just found his prostate. When he presses his fingers at the same angle, Yuuri reacts again, confirming it.

“Maybe next time I will,” Victor continues, continually assaulting that spot with an odd air of casual nonchalance. “But not at a glory hole. I want to see you on your knees in front of me. My cock in your mouth, you fighting back tears as I push every last inch inside… Would you like that, Yuuri? You could be my personal cockwarmer.”

Truth be told, Victor’s experience with dirty talk is… limited. With an audience, at least. Most of his more vulgar thoughts he keeps to himself, since none of his previous bed partners have expressed an interest. But Yuuri was certainly interested, and if Victor hadn’t already known that from his own words at the glory hole, he’d definitely realize it now.

Yuuri gasps at his suggestion like it’s a Christmas present come early. He lets go of his legs and reaches his arms out towards Victor, wrapping around his neck to pull him into another frenzied kiss. Victor lets him, shuddering at the feeling of Yuuri’s tongue pushing against his own.

After they part, Yuuri pants hotly against his mouth. “Victor… _do me.”_

(It occurs to Victor once again how _utterly_ perfect Yuuri really is.)

Victor leans back and grins. “As you wish, _zolotse.”_

He pulls out his fingers, pausing for a moment to admire the view of Yuuri’s hole as it twitches desperately, like it’s begging for something to come back and plug it up again. He pats the bed in search of the bottle he’d tossed carelessly aside earlier - in retrospect, not a great move - and finds it a few moments later. Victor quickly lathers his cock in the slick substance, but then he pauses again.

“Erm… Yuuri?”

Yuuri groans. “What?”

“I suppose it’s bit late to ask, but… Would you prefer I wear a condom?”

Yuuri raises his head and stares at Victor incredulously. Victor shifts nervously in his spot on the bed, chastened by the look.

“Victor,” the younger man starts, and his voice sounds like he’s trying hard to maintain a steady tone, “Two hours ago, I swallowed a load of your come down my throat. I think we’re past the point of condoms.”

Victor blushes. “Fair enough,” he admits, and lines his cock up with Yuuri’s hole, before pushing it in without warning.

Yuuri _jolts,_ his expression quickly switching from exasperated to delighted. A long, drawn-out moan emits from his lips while the older man continues to go forward.

Victor’s teeth worry at his bottom lip as he pushes in deeper. He already knew Yuuri would be much, _much_ tighter here than his mouth, but actually feeling it is akin to a religious experience, at least as far as Victor’s concerned. Yuuri’s insides are convulsing around his dick, swallowing every inch of him further into its velvety heat, making him almost dizzy with the intensity of it.

Victor finally bottoms out, hips pressing against the plush swell of Yuuri’s ass.

“Mm, baby, you’re squeezing me so tightly…” he groans.

Yuuri, either out of desperation or impatience, rolls his hips to make Victor’s cock rub inside him. They both gasp at the feeling.

“Please, Sir,” Yuuri begs, rolling his hips once more; the action makes his own cock slap against his stomach. “Fuck me hard… Use me… I’m all yours, Victor, so please - _ah!”_

He’s cut off by Victor, who pulls out just enough that when he thrusts back in, Yuuri feels every inch of flesh slide past his rim. Then he does it again, and again - soon, Victor’s set up a relentless pace, fucking Yuuri so hard the headboard of the bed clatters against the wall. Victor can’t be bothered to remember who’s in the room next door, and frankly, he doubts he would care either way. All that matters is the gorgeous, erotic creature writhing under him, chanting his name with all the breathless reverence of a votary.

It’s a heady feeling, having such a great effect on a person. Though Victor knows it goes both ways - should Yuuri try, he could have Victor on his knees within a minute. They can explore that later; for now, Victor is the one in control, using Yuuri just like he asked him to.

He pulls out halfway this time, but instead of immediately pushing back inside, he rolls his hips in small circles, rocking into Yuuri with shallow, teasing thrusts. Yuuri sobs, bucking his hips in protest, and Victor smirks down at him.

“You wanted me to use you, _zolotse,”_ he reminds him tauntingly. He slows his pace for good measure, and slides a hand up Yuuri’s chest and flicks his thumb against a nipple. Yuuri fists the sheets tighter, a high-pitched whine of frustration escaping his throat. His insides are contracting around his dick like Yuuri’s body is trying to suck him back inside. Victor tosses his head back and grunts, sliding all the way in slowly. But even then he just grinds, not giving Yuuri the pounding he so desperately begs for.

“Mm, God, I can’t wait to come inside you,” he whispers instead. “You’d look so beautiful, dripping with my seed. Do you want that, Yuuri? Want me to pump your sloppy whore hole full of come?”

“ _Y-es!”_ Yuuri shouts, strangled and needy and _wonderful._ “I-I want your come, Victor! I want you to mark me inside and make me yours!”

Victor chuckles. “I thought you were already mine?” He grinds a little harder, the head of his cock rubbing against Yuuri’s prostate in a manner that must be maddening.

Tears bead at the corners of Yuuri’s eyes. “Please, Victor, no more teasing… Give it to me!”

“You’re really not in a position to be making commands, you kno- _whoa!”_

Before Victor can finish, Yuuri surges up and flips their positions. The Russian finds himself on his back, blinking up at his ceiling again as Yuuri straddles him for the second time that night. but this time, Yuuri is sitting on his cock, the full weight of him pressing down on Victor’s lap. He feels even tighter like this, somehow, making Victor wonder distantly why he hadn’t started the night in this position.

Luckily, Yuuri is here to amend that mistake. He rocks wantonly in Victor’s lap, his hands resting on Victor’s lower stomach. Before Victor can get too used to the sensation and recover his wits, Yuuri lifts his hips up until only the head of Victor’s cock remains to stretch out his hole.

Then, he slams back down, skin meeting skin with a harsh-sounding slap. Victor chokes out a gasp, but it’s drowned out by Yuuri’s ecstatic moaning.

He starts riding Victor hard and fast,  and Victor is left to watch helplessly as his cock disappears inside Yuuri’s inviting body. Yuuri is a vision of lust and lost control - skin flushed and sweaty, cock slapping lewdly against his own stomach, dripping with precum and so hard it hurts _Victor_ to even look at. And his _thighs,_ whose muscles contract with each push up and down, are such a sight Victor nearly comes then and there.

But that’s nothing compared to the utter filth spilling from Yuuri’s mouth.

“Your cock is so _good,_ Victor,” he moans, looking just a little bit delirious and a lot like the sexiest sight Victor’s ever beheld. “ _Ah,_ it’s so hot and thick, like it’s trying to split me in half! _Fuck, yes,_ I’ve wanted this since forever!”

Though they’re shaking, Victor valiantly moves his hands to grip Yuuri’s flexing thighs, if only to anchor himself a little better.

“Y-Yuuri…!”

“I want you inside me all the time,” continues Yuuri, and now it’s almost like he’s running on autopilot, words coming out like a dam has been broken. “I want you to fuck me like I’m your whore. Do you want that? Do you want me to be your horny little slut, ready to take your cock whenever you want me? Huh, _Vitya?_ ”

Victor stiffens - it’s the _‘Vitya’._ He doesn’t know where Yuuri heard it, or why he hasn’t called him that before this very moment, but it does it. He barely gets out a garbled shout as a warning before he comes, grip tightening on Yuuri’s hips as he empties his seed into the younger man’s body.

Yuuri loses his goddamned mind when he feels it, warm and thick and so undeniably Victor’s. It floods his insides, staining him deep, deep within; so deep it feels like it’ll never come out, and it’s that thought - that Victor _will_ always be inside him, no matter how thoroughly Yuuri cleans himself - that makes Yuuri come untouched, crying out Victor’s name one last time as his cock spills onto Victor’s chest.

They stay like that, frozen in that moment, for what feels like forever. They’re both fighting for breath, chests heaving erratically, but eventually, it’s Yuuri who recovers first. He carefully lifts his hips up again, allowing Victor’s softened dick to slip out of him. It’s accompanied by a gush of come and a whimper from Yuuri, who presses his fingers against his hole in a last-minute attempt to keep that part of Victor inside.

He drapes himself over Victor, nuzzling into his chest. Victor laughs breathlessly, and despite his exhaustion, lifts a hand to card through Yuuri’s sweat-soaked hair.

“That was incredible, Yuuri… Yuuri?”

With Yuuri’s front pressed against him, he feels something poking him in the abdomen. He realizes with a combination of shock and awe that Yuuri’s cock is still hard.

He jolts as he feels a hand curl around his soft member, and he glances down to meet Yuuri’s half-lidded gaze.

“I hope you’re not tapping out yet, Victor,” he purrs, eyeing Victor like a predator to its prey. He slides down Victor’s body until he’s in between his legs. His mouth hovers over his twitching dick, and he says, “You’re supposed to fuck me all night, remember?” before swallowing it down in one smooth motion.

Victor gasps, hips bucking into the heat. It’s not long before he’s miraculously hard again, helped along by Yuuri’s talented and persistent mouth. He pulls a smirking Yuuri up to kiss him hard on the lips, tasting himself on the Japanese man’s tongue.

“You’re unbelievable,” he groans against Yuuri’s lips. “Completely un-fucking-believable… God, I love you.”

He feels Yuuri smile. “I love you, too.”

(Victor’s so fucked. And he’s never been happier.)

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure he’ll be up for it, Mila?”

Mila looks back with a raised eyebrow at Georgi. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

The older man shrugs. “He seemed so depressed yesterday…”

Beside him, little Yuri scoffs. “Because he’s a fucking wuss and couldn’t chat up Katsuki? Pathetic.”

“That’s why we’re inviting him!” says Mila, as the three of them continue to the end of the hallway where Victor’s room is. “A little shopping always cheers my romantic blues right up. And it usually works for Victor, too.”

Neither Georgi nor Yuri can refute that, so they continue on in silence towards Victor’s room.

After a beat, though, Georgi is speaking again. “By the way, did either of you hear that commotion last night? I couldn't tell which room it was coming from.”

Yuri makes a disgusted face. “Ugh, don’t remind me. Those fuckers were at it all night. I couldn’t sleep!”

Mila shrugs. “At least someone here is getting lucky, _da?”_

Georgi and Mila both laugh as Yuri retches loudly. Finally, they arrive at Victor’s door. Mila raises her hand to knock, when it suddenly swings open on its own. And... it’s not Victor on the other side.

“O-Oh,” Yuuri Goddamn Katsuki blinks, mouth parted in a small ‘o’ shape as he sees the three of them. They stare back, for two reasons. The first being that they’re almost positive this is Victor’s room, and as far as they know, he has no business being there. The second…

Yuuri Katsuki is an absolute _mess._

His clothes and hair are rumpled, his glasses smudged, and most telling of all, his throat and collar are decorated with red and purple hickies, and the combination of his low-slung jeans and crop top give them a perfect view of the dark, finger-like marks on his waist. He looks like he's been thoroughly and completely fucked.

They stare awkwardly at each other for a few seconds, and before anyone can so much as speak, Victor suddenly appears behind Yuuri, wrapping his arms around him. He looks as perfect as ever, hair styled and clothes immaculate, though he is, somewhat suspiciously, wearing a high-collared shirt that covers his neck.

“ _Yuuri,_ what’s wrong - oh.” Victor looks momentarily surprised at seeing his rinkmates. “What are you three doing here?”

Georgi keeps staring, Yuri sputters, either with rage, disgust, or shock, and Mila is the only one of them who recovers her wits enough to speak.

Sort of.

“U-Uh… Shopping trip. Wanted to know if you… would come…”

She can’t take her eyes off Yuuri, who’s now a lovely shade of pink that matches his crop top, his own eyes averted to the floor.

Victor grins. “Ah, thank you, but no. Yuuri and I have plans. Right, Yuuri?” He rubs his cheek against the top of Yuuri’s head, making the shorter man squeak with embarrassment. But he doesn’t pull away or protest.

“R-Right,” he says shyly.

“Maybe we’ll join you later, though,” adds Victor. “Yuuri just has to shower and change.”

“So maybe you should let go of me,” Yuuri murmurs, though to Mila’s ears, he sounds… fond?

Victor heaves a large, dramatic sigh and does just that, allowing Yuuri to step away and beyond the threshold of the door. The trio of Russian skaters move back to accommodate him, but they’re still in a state of shock.

Yuuri looks back at Victor with a coy look. “I’ll, um, be quick.”

Victor beams at him. “You’d better be, _zolotse.”_

Yuuri flushes darker at the name and quickly scurries down the hall to the elevator, accompanied by Victor’s lighthearted laughter that follows after him. But Mila, Georgi, and Yuri can only keep staring.

Because Yuuri Katsuki is _limping._

Mila lets out a soft huff of breath, expression thoroughly impressed. Yuri looks torn between the same and outright horror, glare switching between Yuuri Katsuki’s retreating form and Victor’s happy, dopey grin.

Face solemn, Georgi holds out his hand, palm facing towards Victor.

Victor high-fives him.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of me is a little upset this wasn't as funny as the first part, but then that last bit with the Russian skating fam came to me and I couldn't not put it in.
> 
> Fun fact, I had an anal scene planned in the first chapter where Victor fucked Yuuri's ass through the gloryhole. But then it was getting really long, and I prefer the idea of their first time being face to face (but still dirty af, naturally), so I scrapped that idea and had them imply that they were gonna do it in a hotel room later. I didn't think I'd actually write it, but evidently I underestimated the thirst of this fandom (... and myself).
> 
> Anyway, this was fun. Till the next raunchy adventure, my friends.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Obviously, Victor and Yuuri do not practice safe sex. They are very, very dumb and horny. Please note that this is a work of fiction that is in no way meant to be a guide to real-life sexual encounters. Please practice safe sex and use condoms. And maybe don't suck the ass of someone you've just met in person for the first time. Thank you.

**Author's Note:**

> (I cannot believe ‘the katsudon of cocks’ is a thing I wrote with my own two hands)
> 
> Don’t ask why they didn’t recognize their voices if they’re ~such big fans~ of each other. Suspension of disbelief. Do it for the smut.
> 
> Also, this is the one meet-cute that is even more embarrassing than the one in canon.  
> Someone: So how did you two meet? Was it at a competition?  
> Victor: Well, actually, it was in a gl–  
> Yuuri: (bursts in, flailing) YES IT WAS AT A COMPETITION HOW DID YOU KNOW
> 
> //cue Phichit and Chris giggling in the background


End file.
